The Blinding Sun
by Gray Doll
Summary: Persephone thinks she knows what love is in the safe confines of her little world. She knows her future will encompass a life of purity and insouciant bliss. But one man will change everything she knew thus far –and this man is far from a mere mortal.
1. Life and Death

**Disclaimer: **Well, obviously, I do not own Greek Mythology. I like to believe I'm not that old. Although I'd love to be an ancient Greek. It'd be awesome…

**Summary**: Persephone thinks she knows what love is in the safe confines of her little world. She knows her future will encompass a life of purity and insouciant bliss. But one man will change everything she knew thus far –and this man is far from a mere mortal.

**Pairing**: Hades / Persephone

**Rating**: T (may go up to M after some chapters, don't know yet)

**Author's Note**: My first ever Greek mythology fanfic! Ok. You see, I love Greek mythology. It's complexity and fairytale-style intrigues and fascinates me. In fact, one of the courses I'm currently taking is archaeology, which involves a great deal of mythology exploration. However I've never really written anything Mythology-inspired by myself, and so here is my attempt! Well, I do have to warn you that of course some descriptions and things like that cannot be faultless, for obvious reasons (one of them being that I wasn't actually alive when the ancient Greeks conjured their myths). I hope you like it! Reviews are of course highly appreciated!

**)(**

"…_and as Nightingale sings her most beautiful song of the spring_

_A Nymph dances across a valley wooded with golden olive trees_

_And yellow chrysanthemums, blue roses and pink lilies_

_Her name is Persephone_

_Her auburn hair fanning around her face, as if sculpted by the finest sculptor_

_And her azure dress billows around her like waves of fair silk_…"

The young woman smiled as she gently placed the stone plate on the burnished wood of the table.

She had always loved reading poems of the mortal men –the way they put their thoughts into words had always fascinated her, the way they wrote songs and stories to be hymned by the sweet-voiced troubadours…

She read her first poem when she was eight years old. She had just learned how to comprehend written speech –girls were not supposed to attend school but her mother had insisted on a private tutelage of her only daughter– and she was enchanted by the simple but so alluring beauty of the flowing words.

She loved to read poems written for and dedicated to her, or her mother, or the other Nymphs. They were the most beautiful; they were hymns to life, songs for the growing flowers and the singing birds, the dainty butterflies and the shimmering lakes.

She was daughter of Demeter, the goddess of Agriculture, and she was fond of whatever was connected to vast fields filled with colorful flowers, whatever was Life.

"…_And she keeps on dancing, dancing to the music the Nightingale sings_

_The red does stop by to watch her dance_

_The silver crows gaze at her from above and join in the singing_

_And her feet now barely touch the ground, she is lifted by the wind_

_The wind that smells of spring, beautiful spring_

_And she's floating_…"

Persephone's eyes fluttered closed, and her small smile grew wider, lightening her features. She wanted to go out and dance.

**)(**

It had been a year. A whole year, since the little minx had married that witless, average mortal man. And although he had sworn to never forgive her, the Lord of the Dead had already forgiven her.

Because he understood the reasons behind her actions.

The girl was the most beautiful creature on the entire earth. To his eyes, his bloodshot dark eyes, not even Aphrodite could compare to the young girl with the soft golden locks and brilliant sapphire eyes. Her curves were the most alluring sight on the world, her rosy pink lips the epitome of bliss, her slender pale neck a work of art and her delicate small hands two dainty milky lilies.

He, the God of the Underworld, the Lord of the Dead, the Guardian of Souls, had lost his mind at the sight of the beautiful maiden.

He had seen her gathering flowers for her older sister's wedding wreath, accompanied by three other pretty young colleens. They were all graceful and lightsome, but his attention was instantly drawn to the blonde beauty.

She was laughing at a joke one of her companions had said, and her blue eyes were sparkling in the sunlight. The air blew gently against her frame and her flimsy skirts billowed all around her, revealing just the right amounts of her perfect slender legs.

The Lord of the Dead could not remember a time in his life when he had felt his heart sink at the sight of a woman like then. Days passed before he saw her again, but when he did, he did not miss the chance and approached her.

Transformed into young man with soft brown hair and tanned skin, he headed towards the beauty with a small gentle smile on his lips. He found out her name was Pollydora (what a beautiful name it was…) and he introduced himself as Theokles.

The two months he spent with her were bliss –he was a God, brother of the King of the Gods of Mount Olympus, and he was perfectly aware he should not be attached to a mortal like that, but he could not help it.

But then he revealed his true identity, and offered young Pollydora a place in his Kingdom, by his side.

Of course, the young woman ran away from him screaming he had deceived her, threatening she would pray to Zeus to punish him for deluding her. It was the last time he ever saw her, but the image of her laughing, her golden hair cascading down to her waist and her eyes shining, was forever printed into his memories and would never go away.

And this, this was just another day in the Underworld for the Lord of the Dead. He would sit in his magnificent stone throne, looming over the gigantic entrance of Twin Caves, listening to Cerberus' growls and the souls' hopeless screams, and thinking of the other Gods, who were drinking Nectar and enjoying their enviable immortal lives in their golden palaces, but also thinking of Pollydora, and how she must be doing with her _husband_.

It was all the same routine, dull and unchanging, until the God decided he could not take it any longer. He had the Judges to take care of the souls once Hermes brought them to the Lake; he didn't actually have to be there. He would go up, to the world.

His two commanding grey horses awaited him, tied to the burnished chariot, made of dark ebony wood. Soon he was riding out of the Underworld, not having bothered to transform into the body of a mortal man, his long raven black hair flying all around him as the stallions increased their speed.

They reached a small clearing in the heart of a cypress forest. And there he saw her.

And all thoughts of previous loves were immediately erased from his mind.


	2. A Distracting Dance

**Author's Note**: So here is the second chapter! I had a great time writing it, and I hope you'll like it as well. Thank you to everyone who is reading this, and many special thanks to those who reviewed –you're awesome!

**)(**

The thick, wet strands of grass felt soft beneath her bare feet as she ran. She hated wearing sandals –her mother always told her that Nymphs and Goddesses were well-mannered and always dainty, but such ways of decorum seemed to slip her mind whenever she was out in the forests.

She smiled as a butterfly landed softly atop her shoulder, snapping her brittle colorful wings repeatedly before taking off and flying away once again. She walked further into the forest, the sound of her footsteps drowning by the countless birds' singing.

It was beautiful. The golden rays protruding from the sun gleamed against the leaves and danced through the branches of the trees, and Persephone could not take her eyes off a certain small nightingale that sat gracefully on top of a thin and tottering branch above her head.

"Persephone!"

Her eyes fluttered open and Persephone wondered when she had closed them. She turned her head to the direction of the voice and a smile lightened her features as she saw three girls in long white dresses approaching her airily, their feet barely touching the fallen leaves beneath them as they glided through the cypresses.

"It is such a beautiful day today," one of them said brightly, bending forwards to pick a small flower, then bringing up to her nose and inhaling its sweet scent.

"Every day is beautiful," Persephone said to the Nymph, and took a look around the forest. "There are so many wonderful flowers here… Mother would appreciate a nice bouquet."

"She would, Persephone," one of the three Nymphs nodded. "We will help you gather the most beautiful of roses for her."

"And the most bright of chrysanthemums," the second added softly.

"The most elegant of lilies," the third said.

Persephone smiled at their words. "My beloved Nymphs, I will pick the blooms on my own. I want this bouquet for my Mother τo be a gift solely from me."

"Of course, Persephone, but do not get too far from here. We will wait for your return under the Great Cypress in the center of the forest."

"Yes," the second Nymph added with a grin, "we will go to the lake, to swim -Helios has warmed the waters with his golden rays. Will you join us?"

"Of course I will," Persephone replied with a smile, and with those words she headed off and towards the small clearing.

**)(**

She was beautiful.

Her hair was like flames, red flames dancing gracefully around her porcelain face, encircling the finest features he had ever seen on a woman. But it was not like the flames burning mirthlessly and imposingly around his black marble palace in the Underworld –these flames were exquisite, joyful and carefree.

The girl –no, the young woman– was dancing now. She spun around herself and the flames followed her motion. Her arms were above her head, as if stretching out to touch the golden sun, and for a moment Hades thought Helios would lower himself from the skies, just to allow his burning skin to be touched by her delicate soft hands.

Her small feet glided across the golden petals of the sunflowers like water glides down the marble surface of a statue during rainfall. Her eyes were closed, but Hades instinctively knew they were green. Bright green, and he instantly thought of how beautiful his emerald jewels would look around her slender neck.

She held flowers in one hand –countless flowers, and Hades wondered how so many of them could fit into such a small and delicate hand. Red, blue, green, yellow and pink, all the colors of the forest were inside her perfect hands.

Hades knew a thing or two about fire. Gigantic fires burned down in the Underworld, around his palace, beneath his Throne, across the Judges' base bearing, outside of Cerberus' den, everywhere, fires that never went off in an attempt to dilute the thick cold and depressing fog that were ever present in the Land of the Dead.

But this fire, it was the first time he felt it. It was growing inside him, burning him, making his stomach leap and his vision go blurry at the sight of the beautiful dancing Goddess.

He knew she was a Goddess. He knew from the moment he laid eyes on her –such glow and energy could only belong to a Goddess, and a young one at that. It was not long before he realized she was the only daughter of Demeter. She was the Goddess of Spring, of life, of the flowers and singing birds.

He had no business here, with her. He was the exact opposite of her –he knew, he knew he should leave her be, leave her to her beautiful dances and trees and go back down, to his Kingdom of Shadows, to reign on the souls of the Dead and the perpetual fog that swirled around his palace.

He knew he should leave, right this instant. But he didn't.

**)(**

Persephone stopped dancing, an excited sigh escaping her lips as she sat down on the sward, not even noticing the fine material of her dress being soaked by the grass. She placed the flowers she had gathered gently on her lap and admired them.

"They are perfect," she murmured as her thin fingers brushed across them and she started braiding them together. She wanted the wreath for her mother to be the most beautiful in the world.

She lost notion of time as her fingers worked with the flowers. She was vaguely aware of what was happening around her, the arias of the birds reaching her ears as a muffling of melodic voices, sounds she could not comprehend and were as if in a dream.

When she was finally done with the wreath, she smiled appreciatively, admiring her work, and finally lifted her eyes from the entwined flowers.

And she froze, unable to move, her eyes widening at the man's sight.

**)(**

He had been right.

Her eyes were green. The most beautiful emerald green, and they were shimmering in the sunlight, wide open with surprise –and fear.

He wanted to talk to her, to tell her not to be afraid. He did not want to hurt her –it would be a blasphemy to mar such beauty and see the perfect skin of her face smeared with tears.

But as he made to take a step closer to her, the Goddess threw the wreath on the ground and ran as fast as her legs could carry her, a scream of terror leaving her lungs and echoing around the clearing.

**)(**

Persephone ran. She ran and ran and ran, until she was out of breath. But even then she did not stop. She kept on running, but her feet were going numb –she would not stop, though.

He knew who that man was –it was a God, it was Zeus' brother, it was the Lord of the _Dead_. The hair on the back of her neck stood on edge as she thought of it, and the notion made her run even faster.

She did not want to know what the God of the Underworld wanted from her. All she wanted was to get away from there and back to the safety of her mother's home, as fast as possible.

She stumbled on rocks and her dress was ripped open when she fell on a mound of cut branches, but she did not stop. Leaves were entwined in her knotty hair and a small stream of blood was running down her right arm, but she forced herself to ignore it and kept on running, the world around her becoming nothing more than blurry lines and colorless masses.

She heard the sound of hoofs against forest ground, she heard the snicker of horses, and she yelped as she felt a strong hand close around her wrist.

The iron grip lifted her effortlessly and her feet were no longer touching the ground. She screamed and her arms flew to hit the arm that was now holding her in place, but she was pulled inside the chariot and the forest around her disappeared, and was replaced by black metal and leather straps.


	3. Screams Echoing Loud

Author's Note: So here's the third installment to "The Blinding Sun"! I just wanted to thank everyone who has been reading thus far, and many special thanks to those who reviewed! Well, this chapter was a little weird to write, and the fact that Hades is her uncle didn't help things at all. It only made it more awkward, but I can only hope the final product won't disappoint. Oh-this is unbeta'd, so I apologise for any mistakes... Please leave a review and tell me what you think! If you have any questions regarding the story I'll be glad to answer them!

**)(**

For a moment Persephone tried to remain stagnant, but it was impossible. She had no idea what was happening around her –it was all a blur, stars were popping wildly before her eyes and her back was aching terribly from the frantic ride of the chariot across the bumpy paths of the forest.

Her arm was pressed down to a surface she assumed was metal, hard and cold. Persephone knew her wrist must be bruised, but she gave the fact little thought, for her attention was instantly pulled to the figure now looming over her.

She kicked and thrashed as hard as she could, desperately struggling to free herself from the hands holding her down, but with little success. She only managed to make the man's grip on her tighter still.

She had never been in a situation like this before –never before had a man been so close to her, never before had a man _touched_ her, been above her, never before had she had to fight against anyone.

Her mother had always kept her away from men, had always told her _how cruel and vile men could become_ and how _she could never trust them_. She had told her that _only men cared about was her body and nothing more, and she should stay away from them. One day_, Demeter had told her daughter_, you may find a man and spend the rest of your life with him, and grow to love him, but you'll still have to be cautious and never fully trust him. But until then, my daughter, I shall keep you safe, away from the defiled hands of men who want to corrupt you_.

Persephone had never really put much thought to her mother's words, even though they were constantly repeated in their home. But now she thought she understood what Demeter had tried to tell her.

**)(**

The little Goddess was thrashing uncontrollably, but it was not hard for Hades to restrain her. His grip on her did not waver for a second… but his resolve did. In the few seconds that had passed since the moment he has pulled Persephone in his chariot, he remembered holding her in his arms as a baby.

A baby no larger than a pup, with little soft red locks on the top of her head, with her bright green eyes open wide, looking up at her uncle with curiosity. He wondered how he had not recognized the small baby in his arms when he saw her dancing in the clearing.

He was abruptly pulled away from his thoughts when he felt something faint around his left wrist. He looked down and saw that her delicate thin fingers were gripping his gloved hand, trying to pull it away from her, trying to free herself.

For a moment, Hades contemplated pulling back and releasing his grip on her, but he quickly decided against that. He did not want to see her beautiful face contorted in a mask of horror, but he could not afford to lose her. If he let her go, she would run away from him, and he could not let her do that.

The horses kept running as fast as they could to the river, and the chariot bumped and twitched with every step they took, making the Goddess yelp and gasp as her small figure shook against the hard metal.

He held her down tighter still with his left hand and lifted his free hand to her face to stroke her cheek in an attempt to calm her down, but her eyes only widened and she turned her head away, fresh tears now running down her flushed cheeks.

"Stop struggling," he said softly but firmly, and her eyes shot up at the sound of his voice. But instead of even considering his words, Persephone only lifted her foot and kicked him to the side.

It did not hurt. He barely even felt it, and he knew it had hurt her own small bare foot more than it had affected him. He placed his own body over hers to keep her from moving, to stop her from hurting herself even more, but she did not seem to realize it would be better for her if she stopped struggling.

**)(**

Somewhere in the very back of her mind, Persephone knew she should stop thrashing and try to calm down.

Perhaps if she stopped squirming, he would release her… And she could sit up, fix her hair and wipe her tears away… She could give him her sweetest smile and address him with the respect a God deserved, and then he would be gentle with her as well…

But she didn't. When his lips were roughly pressed down to hers, she only pushed him away with her free hand and she screamed, as loud as she could, with the hope that someone –_anyone_, would hear her and come to save her.

**)(**

The Sun was already leaving the skies when Demeter heard the scream. It pierced her body and riddled her bones, and it made her drop the skep she was holding and run.

Everything around her was beautiful; the skies were painted scarlet and the birds were chirping mirthfully, unaware of the Goddess' own agony.

She ignored the butterflies and birds, she ignore the roses and lilies, she ignored the small squirrels and elegant does as she ran and passed them by, with only one thought in her mind.

_My daughter._


	4. Swirling Fog

**Author's Notes**: Hello everyone! Sorry I didn't update quicker… I really do hope you like this chapter. Very small, it is, but just because the next one will be longer. Feel free to leave a review with your thoughts!

**)(**

It was cold.

Dreadfully, execrably _cold_, and the flimsy material Persephone was dressed in definitely did not help provide any heat. However it was the only piece of clothing she had in her possession at the moment, and she would have to content herself with that.

She would prefer to throw it away, though. She would rather tear it, burn it and never touch it again, for it was drenched in tears, sweat, blood, and _his_ scent was still clinging to it and would not go away.

Her torrent of tears had finally ceased, but it was mostly because her eyes had gone dry and she felt there were no more tears left in them. If she could, she would have kept crying, but it seemed impossible now. The only thing she was able to do now was to try to numb the pain and herself.

She had never seen fog before in her entire life, but now it was swirling around her feet, its unnatural coldness just barely touching her ankles –up until an hour ago, Persephone would gasp and jump at the disgusting feeling, but now she only sat there, on the bed, unmoving. The only hints that betrayed she was alive and not some extremely vivid sculpted statue was the occasional flicker of her emerald eyes and her slow, almost imperceptible breathing.

The bruises –bruises she was well aware she had caused to herself– marring her soft tanned skin were black grey and purple, colors so unlike the ones she was used to, but so prominent down _here_. The colors she liked were green, golden and red, the blue of the skies and the seas and the brown of the fresh soil.

But the lack of colors, the cold and the numb pain were nothing –_nothing_, compared to the screams.

For the first few hours of her remaining here, she had her ears covered, shut tightly with her small hands, desperately trying to keep the sounds away. The souls were screeching and screaming at the top of their lungs, begging and crying out as they underwent their trials.

Persephone could not understand how anyone could stand living here for an eternity, how they bared to live among the screams, in the cold and the desperation that closed in on this dreaded realm.

She had lost sense of time and thus had no idea how many hours had passed until the door finally opened and _he_ walked in. his mere presence made her want to vomit, but she forced herself to maintain her stagnant position and expressionless façade.

She kept her eyes locked on a spot on the wall opposite to her, refusing to look at anything else, much less him. She hoped that, if she didn't pay him any attention, he would leave her alone in her misery.

Her hand twitched as she felt his weight on the bed next to her, but she kept herself from flinching away from him. Just the feeling of having him so close to her made her sick, but she would _not_ show it. She was young, yes, but she had forced herself to realize that she was not an innocent little girl any longer, and she could not forever rely on the help of others –especially when these others were miles away and did not even know where she was. No, she should be strong and protect her own self.

She had turned silence and indifference into her armor, emotionless eyes and still body into her weapons. She could not allow herself to be broken any more.

"You haven't had any sleep," he spoke after several long moments, and his voice was oddly soft, but it still held the coldness and finality Persephone had become so aware of.

She preferred not to answer. Still she hoped that if she ignored him, he would get the message and leave her be.

"And you haven't eaten anything," he continued.

It was true. He had offered her countless platters filled with food to chose from and eat, but she had merely kept crying and had refused everything until he had finally ordered his servants to take the food away from her.

"I was not hungry," she said finally, trying to make her voice sound cold and emotionless, but she could hear how small and uncertain it was, how it shook and showed her fear against her will.

"But are you now?"

She blinked, but did not tear her gaze away from the wall. "No."

"You have to eat something," he said firmly after a while. "I do not mean ambrosia. You will eat _food_."

She did not say anything, although she thought he might take her silence as compliance. _Let him think whatever he wants_.

"You have stopped crying," he observed, and Persephone fancied she noticed a hint of relief in his voice as he spoke these words.

"I have no more tears left to shed," she said, and her voice was cooler this time. "If I had, I _would_ cry."

"I do not want to see you cry."

Persephone pursed her lips. "You don't have to watch." _Remember whom you're talking to_, she tried to remind herself, but she just couldn't manage courtesy right now.

"I do not _want_ you to cry. You're too beautiful to cry."

"I'd rather be hideous, if it meant you would never _rape me and abduct me_!" she finally snapped, no longer able to control herself. To her great astonishment, she felt fresh tears in her eyes, and her cheeks were quickly soaked.

"Do not talk like this," he said, and his voice was lower, barely above a whisper. It was not threatening, though.

"Why, isn't it the truth?" she cried, and jumped off the bed, no longer standing sitting next to him. "Why did you do this to me? What have I done to you?"

His face was expressionless, but his eyes were burning. "I want to make you my _Queen_. I do not want to hurt you."

"You've already hurt me!" she screamed. "You want to make me the Queen of this vast graveyard? Queen of the shadows, the coldness and the screams?" she slumped on the bed, feeling her legs giving way beneath her. "It would be better if you just killed me," she whispered, and when he brought his hand to her face and whipped her tears away, she didn't find the strength to push him away.


	5. Dinner Amongst Shadows

**Author's Notes**: I am terribly sorry for the delay… But last week I had my focus on my Harry Potter fics. School hasn't started yet, so I suppose I'll be able to keep myself busy with fan fiction until this Tuesday(yes, school starts then) but after that, I can't promise you'll see very frequent updates… But I can promise I will try. Thank you to all my readers and of course my wonderful reviewers!

**)(**

The prospect of having dinner with the Lord of the Underworld was not at all winsome, but Persephone knew she could not carry on without consuming any food. As much as she hated to admit it, there was reason in Hades' words when he urged her to eat something.

Finally after many days she had conceded she was in terrible need of food, but she did not feel very mirthful when Hades announced her they would be dining together.

Persephone was sure it was just one of his plans to get to her. Of course, she did not intend to give him the chance to even try to get her to open up –she was quite content to maintain her cold and emotionless façade and fortify her true feelings behind a cool exterior.

Admittedly, Hades had stayed true to his word and had done nothing to hurt her. In fact, he was treating her with respect and gentleness, which bewildered Persephone even more. His behaviour was only unbecoming of the Liege of the Dead, but not even once did she let herself loose around him.

Persephone did not trust him.

Why should she, after all? He had abducted her and taken her against her will, he had brought her down here and had separated her from her mother and the world she knew. Persephone had decided long ago Hades was a cruel and monstrous man without feelings, and was now convinced that all the smiles and polite gestures were sham. He only wanted to break her and nothing more, and she could not allow herself to give him the pleasure of doing so.

As she changed into the gossamer floor-length dress he had given her as a gift, Persephone swore to herself to be strong and remain unbreakable. She had never been in situation where she had to defend herself in the past, but now she was determined to fight her way out of the Underworld –but not the way soldiers and armies did. Her armor would be her fake sweet smiles and her icy silence, and she would remain unbreakable until her mother came for her –her mother or anyone else.

**)(**

The young Goddess puzzled Hades like no one else did.

One moment she was a spitfire and perfunctory little minx, and then she was a windless woman sheltered behind a lukewarm exterior that betrayed neither her thoughts nor emotions.

He honestly did not know what to do with her. Oh, he knew what he _wanted_ to do –he wanted to see her sitting on a majestic throne next to him with a wreath of roses on her beautiful hair, then take her to his bed and make love to her, spend his days on her side and hear her chiming laughter as it would fill the emptiness of his realm.

But he couldn't do that. Whenever he attempted to touch her, she would either flinch away and cover herself or remain stagnant and unresponsive, with her eyes shut waiting for him to go away. He did not want her to be like this –he wanted her to be the mirthful young woman he had seen in the clearing so many days ago.

Her appearance had changed, too. Her cheeks were no longer rosy, instead her face was pale and ill-looking. Her once sparkling emerald eyes were now dull and void of emotion, and even the beautiful auburn colour of her hair had been replaced by a dark and lifeless tawny shading.

Not to mention her weight was bordering on feeble.

Hades could not understand why she was so unresponsive to his gestures and gentleness. If he became harsh towards her, he would probably scare her and she would hate him even more –but on the other side, he was getting nowhere by being all kind.

He knew it was because of how he had treated her after seizing her from the forest clearing. He had taken her against her own will, he had hurt her, and now of course she had every reason not to trust him and loathe every second she spent in his presence. Admittedly, he had not thought much when he had brought her in the Underworld. He had been so blinded by her outstanding beauty he had not considered she would never be happy down here, amongst the screams and shadows.

Hades had only two options left; he should either send her back to her mother (his messengers had already informed him Demeter was searching for her precious daughter), or keep her with him and try to make her love him. The last option seemed laughable, considering how much she hated him, but there was no way he would let her go. He wanted her too much to allow her to leave –all he could do now was make her want him back.

**)(**

"My beloved husband." Hera's voice echoed around the marble palace and Zeus' eyes shot up at the sound. The address did not surprise him as much as her presence itself did –after all, his wife always called him her 'beloved', even though all knew she did not mean it.

"My wife," he said, his voice patterning hers, but without even glancing at her.

Hera drew a long breath before walking gracefully across the grand parlor and hovered behind her husband's throne, forcing a small smile on her lips. "Zeus," she started, careful to keep her voice low and soft.

"What do you want, Hera?" Zeus demanded, apparently not fooled by her fake affections. "Speak openly."

Hera clenched her teeth but remained impassive, now moving so she could face her husband who still refused to look at her. "My husband… The Earth is dying."

Zeus nodded, his sapphire eyes still not meeting hers. "I have noticed."

"And you will do nothing about it?"

"It is not my responsibility," Zeus said firmly, and Hera huffed with annoyance.

"No, it is Demeter's, but she does not seem to be doing a good job, does she?" she snapped, her icy cold demeanour all but slipping away. Hera had never liked Demeter and her daughter, the little naïve Persephone, the same way she had never liked any woman her husband had cheated on her with.

Zeus turned abruptly and locked gazes with her, blue eyes ablaze. "And what do you want me to do, Hera? Scold her?"

"Yes," Hera exclaimed, but immediately she seemed to realize she had lost her temper. Taking a deep breath, she pushed a lock of black hair behind her ear and kneeled next to her husband's throne, her hands just barely touching the cold marble. She hated pleading with her husband, and she hated helping women that had contributed in ruining her marriage to Zeus –but the Earth was dying, and she had to do something. Nobody else seemed willing to act and help, and it was up to her now. "My husband," she started, her voice once again soft, "don't you see? Poor Demeter is woebegone, her beautiful daughter was taken from her and now the flowers won't blossom, living things have ceased their growth, the fruits won't ripen and the Earth has become a sorrowful place. The mortals are dying, my love, and they pray to us, they beg us to save them."

Zeus seemed thoughtful for a while, and Hera only took advantage of his silence. "My dear husband, go and talk to Demeter, and change her mind."

"Demeter is in the palace of Celeus, Hera, far away at Eleusis. I have heard she has assumed the form of an old woman seeking shelter, and the King has taken her in his palace. Reaching her-"

"Is easy, if you are the King of the Gods, my husband," Hera said firmly, but was silenced with a wave of Zeus' hand.

"Hera, Demeter will not resume the harvest and growth of life until her daughter is returned to her-"

"Then we should find young Persephone and return her to her mother," Hera concluded, and eyed her husband warily. "Do you know where the little Goddess is?"

Zeus remained silent, and Hera stood up, looking down at her husband with eyes ablaze with anger. "You _know_," she snapped, "you know and you will not tell Demeter, and the world is _dying_ because of her, of you and whoever took Persephone!"

**)(**

Persephone walked down the large hall, the fog swirling around her ankles and making her almost jump at every step she made. It was a rather unpleasant sensation, but she forced herself to ignore it as she made her way towards the dining hall of Hades' palace.

Their dinner proceeded in silence, uneventful. Persephone ate without talking, trying hard not to look at the God and his demon servants, the dreadful shadows that scurried across the room fulfilling orders.

Hades' every attempt to get her to talk to him was met with cold silence, but her restrained demeanour fell away and she jolted when a female figure entered the hall, gliding across the shadows and stopping only once she had reached Hades, who seemed unsurprised by her presence.

The raven-haired goddess had silver daggers hanging from her leather belt, and her vestments were as dark as her hair. Persephone sat there unmoving, petrified by the woman's redoubtable appearance. She was beautiful, but not in the way Persephone was –this woman's beauty was dark and powerful, and held something mystical and unworldly.

"Hecate," Hades said softly. "It is a bless to be honoured with your presence."

"My lord," Hecate bowed her head, and eyed Persephone briefly before turning her attention back to Hades, bending forwards and whispering something in his ear. Persephone saw Hades nod curtly and then the woman was gone, as suddenly as she had appeared.

"What did she want? What did she tell you?" Persephone asked, speaking for the first time in days.

Hades noticed that and his eyes widened, but he swiftly regained control of his expression. "Hecate delivered me some news," he said simply and took a sip of his wine. For some reason, he seemed… annoyed.

Persephone resumed her dinner in silence after that, and excused herself quickly after she had finished eating. As she practically ran back to the chambers she had been granted, she mentally screamed to herself for almost feeling a pang of jealousy at the close proximity between Hades and Hecate.


End file.
